


RE: Apéritif

by redpandawriter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Connor is learning emotions, Empathy is contagious, Gen, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, POV Connor, Will Graham is a shit teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 03:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15087776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpandawriter/pseuds/redpandawriter
Summary: "Seems we both specialize in understanding a certain brand of crazy for a living."Connor Model RK800 is sent by Cyberlife to the FBI to help in their investigation of the Minnesota Shrike. He is assigned to Will Graham, a teacher at the academy and consulting profiler for the case.





	RE: Apéritif

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just Connor going through the events of the first episode of Hannibal and because there is no deviant android Connor is just more or less just kinda hanging out and taking notes. I also forgot to mention anywhere in this that this is supposed to take place three years prior to the events of DBH proper so here it is. Enjoy!

“Show me who you are. Tell me your design.”

With the closing of a laptop, the surrounding class begins to pack up and exit. As trainees leave, one figure enters, wearing a crisp clean suit. He notes, in passing, some subtle expressions of admiration towards the the teacher, and some of curiosity towards himself.

“Mr. Graham?”

A head of dark curls lifts from a collection of papers he was examining that were scattered across the desk, sharp eyes behind glasses focused on the figure approaching him.

“My name is Connor, I'm the android sent by Cyberlife.”

The human nodded, his expression carefully blank save for the subtle twitch in his right eye. He looked back down at the desk and began collecting the papers together and packing them up in his bag. “The android assigned to me by the FBI to keep an eye on me when the other agents are too busy.”

“That is one of my directives.”

“So what's the main one?”

“Investigating and hunting down deviants, ideally, to catch them and have them sent back to Cyberlife for further study.”

Will huffed a laugh at that, still looking down at his stack of papers, “So, it's your job to understand and deconstruct the thinking of rogue androids. Seems we both specialize in understanding a certain brand of crazy for a living.”

“If that's how you see it.” Connor responded.

“No, that's how Jack Crawford wants to see it. Wants all the best bloodhounds on the Minnesota Shrike case.” There was an certain animosity to how Will said it that the android took note of.

“It is understandable, given the nature of the case, I’m sure he’d want to find the killer as soon as possible to prevent anymore loss of life.”

There was no real change in reaction from Will, only a brief blank stare. Connor tilted his head slightly towards his right, “I’ve been informed that you have a very unique approach to profiling criminals.”

Will looked up, now done with packing and throwing the strap onto his shoulder, a strange expression on his face, “I’m heading to Jack’s office,” and briskly walked out the classroom.

Ω

Eight girls abducted from all over on Minnesota on a Friday night and then Reported missing on a Monday.

Elise Nichols was from Duluth, Minnesota. She came home on a Friday night and was supposed to house sit for her parents and look after the cat, but never made it.

“They’re all very, uh, Mall of America. That’s a lot of wind-chafed skin.” said Will.

“Each girl has the same hair colour, the same eye colour. As well as being roughly the same age, height, and weight.” Connor said, making a list of mental notes as he scans the information on the corkboard. Seven blue squares dotted a map of Minnesota, a line of thread connecting each them to the girl who was reported missing from there, each of them have happy smiling faces.

Jack Crawford, head of the FBI, nodded, “So what is it about these girls?”

Connor frowned at that, “I’m not sure what you mean-”

“It’s not about all these girls,” Will snapped, still staring at the corkboard as all eyes focused on him. “It’s about one them. He’s like Willy Wonka, every girl he takes is like a candy bar, and hidden among them all is the one true intended victim.”

“Which means,” Jack added, “she’s our golden ticket, but is he warming up, or reliving what he did to her?”

“The golden ticket wouldn’t be the first taken, and she wouldn’t be the last,” Will began to fidget, rubbing his hands over his cheeks and arms, “he would, um, hide how special she was. I mean, I would. Wouldn’t you?” 

Jack nodded again, eyes firmly trained on Will, “I want you to get closer to this.”

Will looked very displeased when he heard that.

Ω

“…She looks like the other girls.” Mrs. Nichols, mother of Elise Nichols, commented. She and Mr. Nichols both sat somberly in their living room, Mr. Nichols had spent the last some ten odd minutes trying to rationalize his daughter’s disappearance. 

Connor stood close to the rear of the pair of FBI agents. As they were only conducting an interview there was no need to poke around the house, though, there wasn’t anything very noticeably interesting to make note of. Jack Crawford and Will Graham stood opposite from where the Nichols sat, Jack was facing the family directly, while Will stared off to side, absently admiring the decor.

“She fits the profile, yes,” answered Jack.

“Could Elise still be alive?” She pressed.

“At the moment, we simply have no way of knowing.”

“How’s the cat?” asked Will.

“What?”

“The cat, Elise was supposed to feed it. Was the cat weird when you came home? It must’ve been hungry. It didn’t eat all weekend.”

“I didn’t notice,” spoke Mr. Nichols. His expression was unsure, a confusion briefly shared by Connor, before he connected the dots.

The cat had been fed. Which meant Elise had gotten off the train, arrived home, and was here long enough to feed the cat before she was taken.

“The Nichols’ house is a crime scene.” Jack said, bringing up his wrist to his mouth, “I need ERT immediately. I want Zeller, Katz, and Jimmy Price. Yes, and a photographer. Connor you stay there.”

“Why is it now a crime scene?!” Mr. Nichols stood up, much more visibly distressed than his spouse.

Will approached Mr. Nichols, “May I see your daughter’s bedroom?”

Ω

“So how was your first outing with the FBI?”

Connor blinked, “Was anything in my report unclear?”

Amanda shook her head, “Your report was satisfactory. I’m merely checking a few things a report can’t cover.” What couldn’t be covered in a report that could in a video call?

“My experience so far,” he began, “it has been interesting.”

“As I understand it, you have been assigned a partner, one William Graham, correct?”

“Yes.”

“How does he seem to you?”

Connor took a moment to think, “He’s different.”

“Different how?”

Why was she asking, did she not read his file? “Mr. Graham and I share a commonality of being able to reconstruct a crime scene, but only he has the unique capacity to empathize with killers.

“It has come to my attention, that such an ability gives Will Graham an advantage I do not have, when it comes to comes to the matters of figuring out the killer’s motive from their pattern of killings. He doesn’t even need to physically be there, just a few pictures and he can create an entire profile on the killer, with an impressive accuracy.” Connor paused, expression thoughtful, “I find myself, curious, to know more about this human.”

Amanda tilted her head, equally thoughtful, “As I understand it, you were not allowed on the crime scene.”

“I was not.”

She nodded. “Well, seeing as this case is federally classified, let’s instead talk about how you’ve been settling in.”

Connor gave a slight nod in response, “The house is a bit much, isn’t it?” It was a two bedroom, two story house, which felt far too large for a single android, or well, “And was assigning another android to the property also necessary?”

“Those were the conditions set by the Bureau, they required a place of residence to send mail to. And federal agents working on cases will often have long work hours, it’ll keep an eye on the property for you when you’re out there catching the criminals, as it were.”

They were strange conditions, androids were technically property, and yet the FBI was treating Connor like they would any human employee. Regardless, he wasn’t going to protest them, they weren’t difficult for someone of his position to accommodate too. Still, they were strange conditions.

Ω

“Mr. Graham?” the lecture hall was empty, had class ended early or was this a free period?

An increasingly familiar head of curls glanced up from his laptop, he frowned at the figure approaching him. 

“The case file hasn’t been updated yet,” Connor continued, “which is strange considering the wealth of new information we received with the discovery of Elise Nichols’s-”

“Have you checked in with Jack?”

It was Connor’s turn to frown, “Not yet, why?”

Will stared blankly at him, “If the digital file of a case Jack himself is working on hasn’t been updated yet, it’s because he hasn’t given the okay just yet.”

“That… does not seem conducive to quickly solving a case.”

The human chuckled, as he shut his laptop and stood, “If you got a complaint, best take it to the man himself.”

As Will threw the strap of his bag over his shoulder, Connor couldn’t help but stop him, “Mr. Graham, if I may,” the man blinked at the android, slowly re-adjusting the strap, “may I ask a personal question?”

Will said nothing, but stared expectantly at Connor, “You refer to your ability as an ‘overactive imagination’, how exactly do you, step into character, as it were?”

There was a short silence, before Will barked out a laugh, “Are you, are you asking me how I empathize with people?”

Admittedly, it did sound like a strange thing to ask, but that was hindsight for you. “I’m only curious as to how it works.” That did not sound any better than the first bit he said.

Will was fully smiling, no smirking, at Connor, “I’m heading to Jack’s office.” and briskly walked out the classroom.

Ω

Antler velvet had been found in at least two of the puncture wounds on the victim’s body. As mentioned by Will Graham, antler velvet is rich in nutrients and promotes healing. It’s possible the killer was trying to ‘undo’ as much of the damage he inflicted, seeing as he already killed her. Risking getting caught to put her body back where he found her, as, according to Will Graham, an apology.

No prints, but there was a hand spread, fingernails were smudged and she never scratched him. A curly piece of metal found by Beverly Katz is the only clue to the killer’s identity they have, courtesy of the killer redressing Elise in her nightgown. 

Other injuries were likely postmortem. The antler piercings were not caused by a deer, she was likely mounted and bled, again, according to Will Graham. Her liver was removed, then placed back, due to something being wrong with the meat. As it turned out the reason she was returned was because Elise had liver cancer, and, according to Will Graham, the killer was eating his victims.

Ω

There was a sharply dressed human, roughly in his forties, standing with Jack Crawford in his office. A quick facial scan revealed the stranger’s name as Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Jack invited them in, “Will, Connor, this is Dr. Lecter. Dr. Lecter, this is Will Graham and Connor.”

Will immediately made for the chair, Connor offered a handshake which Hannibal accepted. “I had heard the FBI were employing a new type of investigative android. Model RK800, yes?”

Connor nodded, “Correct.”

“Fascinating,” he said, sharp eyes taking in as much detail as they could. The android felt strange under the doctor’s gaze, he vaguely felt exposed. 

Just as quickly as he turned away, asking Jack, “How many confessions?” and then sat down in the chair next to Will, Connor stood a little ways behind them.

“Twelve, none of them knew details until this morning, then everyone knew details. Some idiot in Duluth PD took a photo of Elise Nichols and shared it with his friends. Freddie Lounds ran it on Tattlecrime.com.”

Connor frowned at the name, “Who is Freddie Lounds?”

“A tasteless hack of an investigative journalist.” answered Will. Connor filed that bit of information for later.

Hannibal looked thoughtful, at Will’s words, “Do you often have trouble with taste?”

“My thoughts are not often tasty.”

“Nor mine. No effective barriers.”

“I make forts.”

“Associations come quickly.”

“So do forts.”

It felt, to Connor, that these two were having very separate conversations, the many metaphors were making it difficult for him to keep up. What did Hannibal mean when he asked about taste? Why bring up barriers, what do forts have to do with associations?

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Hannibal continued.

Will kept his gaze firmly trained ahead, “Eyes are distracting.

“You see too much, you don’t see enough. And, it’s hard to focus,” he turned, now facing Hannibal, getting much more closer to the doctor than Connor knew was comfortable for the human, “when you’re thinking, ‘Oh, those whites are really white’ or ‘they must have hepatitis’ or ‘is that a burst vein?’” he sat back in his chair, retraining his gaze forward, “So I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.”

Hannibal seem undeterred by Will’s show of aggression, it was a curious reaction in response to the latter’s behavior, one Connor hadn’t seen yet.

“I imagine,” the doctor continued, “what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams.” there was a strange expression on his face, “No forts in the bone area for the things you love.”

Will stared at him, a subtle twitch in his right eye, “Whose profile are you working on?” he turned to Jack, “Whose profile is he working on?” 

“I’m sorry, Will.” Hannibal apologized, but it didn’t sound sincere to Connor, “Observing is what we do. I cannot shut mine off anymore than you can.”

Shut what off? What was this metaphor supposed to mean?

“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” Will said to Jack, “You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed,” he continued, rising out of his seat, “Now if you excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing.” And with that he left.

A thoughtful expression formed on Hannibal’s face again, similar to the one he had from earlier.

“Maybe,” Jack started, “We shouldn’t poke him like that doctor, maybe use a less direct approach.”

Hannibal nodded, absently looking at the door Will exited from before turning to Jack, “What he has is pure empathy, he can assume the perspective of anyone he wishes, yours, mine- 

“And others that might scare him. It’s an incredible, if uncomfortable, gift that he has Jack,” Hannibal continued, “Perception is a tool that is pointed at both ends.”

The doctor turned his gaze to the corkboard, studying the various faces of the deceased girls, “This cannibal you have him getting to know… I think can help Will see his face.”

Ω

“Her name is Cassie Boyle. She fits the profile as the other girls,” Connor says as he, Will and Jack approach a woman mounted on a severed deer head. She possessed similar puncture wounds as Elise Nichols, but despite the similar profile, something was off. The android couldn’t explain it, not yet at least, but the presentation between Cassie and Elise was different, very different.

Beverly Katz and Brian Zeller attempt to shoo away the crows who have perched themselves on Cassie’s body, picking away at the flesh.

Connor glanced at Will, this would be the first time he would see the human’s ability in action.

“He wanted her to found this way,” Will began, Connor frowned, “This is the equivalent of fecal smearing. It’s petulant.”

“Like he’s mocking her.”

The android felt a slight shock through his body, after the words left his mouth, a soft alert informed him of software instability, and turned his gaze away from Will, who was staring at Connor with a thoughtful expression.

After a beat of silence, Will turned away and shrugged, “Or, perhaps, he’s mocking us.”

Connor could see Jack shaking his head from the corner of his eye, “Where did all his love go?”

“No, whoever tucked in Elise Nichols didn’t do this to Cassie Boyle.” 

“He took her lungs, think she might have still been alive when he cut them out,” Brian called out from where he was examining Cassie’s body.

Will turned away from the crime scene, heavily breathing out, Connor retrained his gaze on the human. “Our cannibal loves women, he doesn’t want to destroy them, he wants to consume them. To keep some part of them inside.” Will paused, glancing back at Cassie, “Whoever killed this girl thought she was a pig.

“The cannibal who killed Elise Nichols, he, uh, has a daughter. Same age, same hair color, same height and weight. She’s an only child, and she’s leaving home and he can’t stand the thought of losing her.” There was a very tired, and very drained, expression on the human’s face. “She’s his Golden Ticket”

“So it’s a copycat,” Connor said.

“So what about the Copycat?” Jack asked.

“An intelligent psychopath,” Will started with a slight irritated undertone, “particularly a sadist, is hard to catch. No traceable motives, no patterns, he may never kill like this again.”

The human began trekking back to his car, calling over his shoulder, “Why don’t you have Dr. Lecter work up a psychological profile, you seemed impressed with his opinion.”

Ω

Connor bumped into Hannibal Lecter the next morning, just a few doors away from Will’s motel room. The doctor looked surprised, “Ah, Connor, off to go see Will?” He held two cups and a thermos in his left hand, and a small thermal food bag in the other.

The android nodded, “Yes, today we will be visiting construction sites that use the same metal forensics found a scrap of on Elise Nichols nightgown. I take it Agent Crawford has ordered you to accompany us?”

Hannibal briefly smiled, “We did not receive much of a chance to speak when we were introduced, and I almost regret it, as I did not know that you were Will Graham’s partner.”

“Why only almost?”

“We are speaking now, are we not? It is not the most ideal meeting place but I am grateful to have the opportunity sooner as opposed to later.” The doctor continued, “If I may, as Will’s psychiatrist, however unofficially, would it be possible to also have you come in for a separate session? I have never had the chance to to fully explore the mind of an artificial intelligence.”

“Do you not own an android? Most affluent individuals such as yourself are likely to own one.” There was something. A something Connor couldn’t describe in words about Hannibal. It was frustrating the android. 

Hannibal smiled at that, “And most likely do, though I consider myself something of an eccentric amongst my peers, and the thought of owning something so human in appearance and mannerisms is unsettling.”

“I see,” Connor replied, “I suppose that’s understandable, I’ll have to check in with my handler at Cyberlife.”

“Of course.”

“In the meantime, we should go rouse Mr. Graham, we have a long day ahead of us.”

The doctor hummed his agreement and together they made their way to Will’s motel room door.

A few knocks later and Will appeared, dressed in a bathrobe and looking distinctly like he had just woken up.

“Good morning Will,” began Hannibal, “May we come in?”

Will’s eyes strained against the bright light from outside, “Where’s Crawford?”

“Deposed in court,” Connor answered.

“May we come in?” Hannibal asked.

Will nodded and stepped aside. Hannibal entered first, walking over to put the food down on the little table by the window, and opened the curtains. Connor stepped in, watching Will close the door and make his way over to the table. The android stood close to the door.

As Hannibal began pouring coffee into the two cups he gestured Connor to come closer, “No need to stand so far Connor, being unable to ingest food should not be a reason to exclude you from the table.” He popped open and peeled the lids off the tupperware, “That being said, I’m very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself. And there,” he gently moved the portions of food from the container onto a plate, pushing it towards Will, “a little protein scramble to help start the morning. Some eggs, some sausage.”

Connor quietly approached, sitting down on the corner of the motel bed as Will took a bite, “It’s delicious.”

There was a very brief expression of what Connor’s sensors recognized as amusement from Hannibal. That was a strange reaction, perhaps it was some kind of inside joke on the doctor’s part.

“My pleasure,” was Hannibal’s response and continued with, “I would apologize for my analytical ambush but I know I will soon be  
apologizing again and you’ll tire of that eventually so I have to consider using apologies sparingly.”

“Just keep it professional,” said Will.

“Or we could socialize like adults, god forbid we become friendly.”

“I don’t find you that interesting.”

There was a strange expression on the doctor’s face, “You will.”

Ω

Connor sat in the back seat of the rental car, absently watching the scenery outside his window. As the car is pulled into park and Connor begins to unbuckle he hears Will ask, “What are you smiling about?”

“Peeking behind the curtain. Curious what the FBI does when it’s not kicking in doors.”

“We’re just lucky we’re not doing house to house interviews.”

“Connor told me a little about what to expect today, and honestly, Jack Crawford wants me to make sure you are of sound mind and body,” the doctor said, looking around the construction site the car was parked in with an expression of mild confusion, “to look for metal pipe threaders?”

Admittedly, that did sound rather silly, but that was hindsight for you. Will must have agreed with him, as he briefly smiled, “That’s between you and Jack.”

“So, what are we looking for?”

“At this point, anything really. But mostly anything peculiar.”

And with that, everyone stepped out of the rental.

Ω

“Connor, how exactly does your database work?”

“I can scan your face and pull up your file.”

“Can you do it with just a name?”

“Depends, who is it you want me to look up?”

“Can you get an address for, uh, Garret Jacob Hobbs?”

Ω

Static filled his ears, giving the world around him a filter. Connor watched impassively, as paramedics hauled a young woman on a stretcher into an ambulance, Hannibal beside her, holding her hand. 

She fit the profile of the girls. She was the Shrike’s Golden Ticket.

Her name was Abigail Hobbs.

The sound of the ambulance doors closing is too loud against the static noise. Connor turns away and approaches Will Graham. He leans against the rental, his clothes are bloody, some of it having splattered onto his face, but most distinctly drenched are his hands. Will’s expression is distant, his eyes stare at nothing, Connor absently wonders if it’s shock.

Distantly, he can hear someone talking to him. _Your hands are shaking._ He didn’t notice, he just focuses on the shine of Will’s glasses, and the blood that’s dirtied them.

 _There’s blood on them, too…_ He probably looked just as awful as Will. 

Connor knew how much a human could bleed, both in how much before they passed out and in total before they died. But numbers and statistics meant nothing in the face of seeing it himself. Seeing Abigail nearly drown in a pool of her own blood. He knew how long it took for someone to drown, too.

The bodies of Louise Hobbs and her husband were carted away next. He could distantly hear those ambulance doors shutting as well.

Connor absently wondered at the societal image of a happy and loving family, how the Hobbs family must have been making breakfast before Will and Connor arrived. He wondered if they were all smiling. Wondered how love could turn into this, a pile of dead bodies and too much blood. What had to be so wrong with you, that loving someone meant killing them?

_What do you know about love?_

There were various error signs popping up all over Connor’s vision. Some informed him of the damage in his auditory processing system, some alerted him to the detection of major software instability, some were trying to get a deviancy read on Will. They all told him to contact Cyberlife. He ignored them, and kept staring at Will’s glasses.

He felt oddly fragile, like he could break at any moment with just one gentle brush of wind. He was too in the moment, to aware of the world around him, all the blood on his person and the circus of law enforcement surrounding a once seemingly milquetoast residence. At the same time it all felt so faraway, like everything was happening from a distance and he was standing behind a TV screen watching it all happen.

_feltfeltfelt_

Connor tried to ignore it all, his thoughts, his feelings, the world around him. He focused on listening to the static noise in his ears, and Will’s glasses.

It was only then did he notice that they weren’t prescription.

 

The end…?

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it, Connor is surrounded by crazy people and murderers. Dunno if I'll do more, I might make this into a series but I'll just have to see.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
